Reason to Live
by Sakaiya
Summary: For over 3000 years Bakura only had one goal in life; revenge. His goal failed miserably and now there are no more chances- the Pharaoh is no longer of this world. What will Bakura do with himself now? Can he find a new reason to live?
1. Reason to Live?

Nina; Hi, I came up with this one though i should be studying for my AP Gov test... I know its not what you expected, mos were probably expecting an update of Damn Bakura but something just keeps stopping me from writing. I know what I want to say with it but every time I start it comes out sounding really retarded, especially if I try to make it funny. This piece is much darker and delves deeper into both Bakura and Ryou's minds.

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Chapter 1: Reason to live?

Ever since he was brought back to the mortal realm, after Memory World, his life had fallen into a rather predictable pattern. Drink, drink, wake up naked in a motel with some hooker. Drink, drink, wake up at a bar with no recollection of what day it was or how he had gotten there. Drink, drink, pass out in the comfort of his own home only to wake up to one of Ryou's lectures. Yes, Bakura's new life was rather predicable. And pathetic.

Today, Bakura sat at the kitchen table, intently studying the wood. Mindlessly, he raised a bottle of strawberry vodka to his lips. His throat no longer recoiled from the harsh liquid, his tongue no longer demanded it to be washed down with water. No, Bakura had adjusted to the liquid long ago.

Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Ryou. He watched from bloodshot eyes as his light paced happily from the kitchen to the living room, talking to Malik on the phone.

"Of course." The albino light nodded, giggling. There was a pause before he began speaking again. "Well that only makes sense. He's-" Bakura purposely diverted his attention back to his drink. He couldn't concern himself with the happy ramblings of his light. All that mattered was the lightly tinted liquid in the clear bottle sitting before him. That light aroma of strawberries and the nearly overpowering stench of alcohol. The Ra-blessed numbness it left him. Funny, a year ago, he wouldn't have touched a drink. Now it was all he did. Then again, before he had to preserve the body. There was no way he could get his revenge if he wasn't clearheaded at all times. And alcohol had a lovely decaying effect on the body.

Decay… decaying meant death, right? That sounded nice about now, actually. If he hadn't thought of it as cowardly and disgraceful, he might have happily slit his own wrists by now. But drinking himself to death didn't sound much better. He couldn't quit drinking now though. He had come to not only desire, but desperately need the numbness the poisonous substance gave him.

"Bakura." The albino could hear the scowl in his light's voice. Sure enough, Ryou was giving Bakura that disapproving frown when Bakura begrudgingly lifted his eyes to his light.

"So when are you going to stop?" Ryou questioned. Bakura sighed in reply and kicked back another swallow of his drink.

"You need to stop this. You're killing youself." Ryou admonished. Bakura ignored him. Eventually Ryou would tire and give up on him, just like everyone else.

Bakura ignored him. It was always the same damned thing. Eventually, Ryou would tire and leave him.

"I'll make you stop, even if I have to kill you to do it."

Empty threat. They both knew knew it. Ryou could kill Bakura no more than Yugi could betray that damned Pharaoh, and considering that the Pharaoh was dead and gone, his spirit frolicking in the afterlife, it was quite impossible. Bakura heard Ryou sigh, a dead hopeless sound. Ryou was giving up. Perhaps he had finally learned that Bakura will never change and was finally giving up for good. The mere thought filled Bakura with both cynical glee and overwhelming depression.

"Atleast tell me this," Ryou demanded. "Why? Why are you throwing your new life away?"

To this, Bakura had a question of his own. "What do I have to live for?" He felt Ryou's stare as the light stood, obviously in shock. Bakura watched in slight amusement as Ryou groped for words.

"Bakura…" Ryou managed to utter. He attempted to say more, but he never got the chance. The doorbell chose then to ring. "Shit." Ryou cursed before blushing. Such foul language. He glanced at the door before turning back to Bakura. The bell sounded again. "Stay in here." Ryou frowned before heading to the door. Bakura smirked. He had won.

He listened as Ryou greeted his friends. Heard the light dance of metal as Ryou's keys jingled when he picked them up. Heard the distinctive patter of Ryou's shoes on the floor, and the final click of the door being shut and locked. Then silence. No one was left in the house except Bakura. The kitchen suddenly seemed too large, too lonesome now that he was completely alone, though that had been his wish. Standing, swaying slightly as he did so, he headed to his room.

Carrying the bottle with him, Bakura staggered down the hallway. The house as immaculate as usual. No it was more than that, it was completely sterile. Its perfect cleanliness made it seem unlived in. The décor itself was perfect and homely but it lacked warmth, lacked life with its purity.

He ambled drunkenly down the hall, tripping on a nonexistent imperfection on the rug. Even drunk his balance was too good to let him fall, but the rug did skid over a few feet, awkwardly and out of place. Somehow, such a small thing made the house more humane.

Bakura made it to his room and collapsed on his bed tiredly, not bothering to shut the door or turn on the lights. Sleep was good. The blessed darkness demanded nothing in return and while he wallowed in it, he didn't need to think. To wonder. A person can't live without a purpose. What was his? Revenge had failed so what was his reason to live?

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Nina: Thats the end of the first chapter. I know I haven't been updating as regularly as most would like (including me) but I will be working on that and I'll get better. Please let me know what you think of the chapter and any criticing that you can think of, I want to improve my writing for both you guys and myself. Review!!! It makes me happy and more inclined to write!


	2. A Third Chance?

Author's Notes; I hope you like this chapter. I'm no longer as depressed as I was when I started this, but I hope its still kept some of that angsty feel. Ironic that I wrote the most recent chapter of DB when I was depressed and I'm writing this when I couldn't be happier. Now that I've said my piece, review replies.

Chrys- Of course! It might be one sided at first, and I may go through other pairings to get there, but thats definitely where this one's heading. One of my favorite pairings after all.

Animeloverangel- I'm glad you enjoyed it and as of now, he's not gonna go that far. Let's see what happens, he may start or maybe he won't....

A Third Chance?

All the lights were off when Ryou came home a few hours later. The darkness of the house neither surprised nor bothered him. Bakura had always felt better in the dark. Ryou had always supposed it was from the years he spent robbing tombs and generally living when all the rest of the world slept. Then again it was possible that he had left the house on another one of those alcohol runs that had become more and more frequent as of late.

Stepping inside, he flicked the lights on. Ryou frowned when he saw the mess his darkness had made of the place. In all honesty, the mess wasn't really that bad, (and most certainly not the type of mess you'd expect from a drunk), but to Ryou, Bakura might as well had just threw handfuls of dirt all over the walls. The hallway rug was misplaced, a small puddle of alcohol next to it, slowly creeping over to the absorbent fabric, the chair in the kitchen wasn't pushed in and the soapy dishwater sat stone cold in the sink. Ugh, the place was filthy. Couldn't Bakura atleast put things back were they belonged? Was that truly too much to ask?

Ryou felt his blood warming as his frustration began to build into anger. Pulling his sleeves up, Ryou reached for a pair of the disposable gloves he kept under the sink for when he cleaned. He drained the cold dishwater and turned the water as hot as it could go. When steam poured from the tap Ryou rinsed his hands, threw the gloves away and began to put away the earlier dishes. When the sink half-filled, Ryou turned off the water and went on what he fondly called the 'dish hunt'. He searched the house from top to bottom for any dishes Bakura, or any company Ryou had had left anywhere besides the kitchen. He gained a cup in his search. Dropping it into the still steamy water, Ryou decided now was as good of a time as any to tackle the fridge. He pulled out any leftovers more than three days old and trashed them, throwing the empty containers in the dish water. There weren't many, considering Ryou had done the same thing the day before.

From there, Ryou grabbed a new set of gloves and washed the dishes, dumped the dirty dishwater and washed the sink. He trashed that set of gloves as well. Drying the dishes, he put them away in the cabinets, before using another set of gloves to pull everything remaining in the fridge on the table so he could wipe down the glass shelves. The same process occurred for the freezer. Then, with a final set for the kitchen, Ryou washed down the table, swept and mopped the floor, washed the windows, replaced the curtains, cleaned the ceiling fan, and wiped down the walls as well, before the kitchen was cleansed to his satisfaction.

Next he started on the living room. That room was treated with the same through treatment as the kitchen. Ryou moved methodologically through the house using this cleaning pattern. Kitchen, living room, downstairs hallway, downstairs bathroom, downstairs guest room, basement steps, basement, upstairs steps, upstairs hallway, guest rooms, bathroom, attic, his bedroom. Ryou finished by grabbing all the linens he changed and his own clothes and sorting them out to do laundry. Because he changed every piece of linen he came across, it made quite a sizable pile. Finally, he went to the one room he had avoided in his obsessive cleaning spree. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door to Bakura's room.

A low groan that reeked of annoyance was his reply. Ryou turned the knob. It was unlocked. The albino light took it as an invitation and walked right in. Ryou repressed a shudder at how filthy the room was. Ryou had stopped cleaning the room a little over a month ago, when Bakura demanded that the light stopped barging in unannounced and moving his things. Bakura hadn't been in the mental state to care about how messy his room was since he came back, so he hadn't cleaned it either. Ryou could smell the dirt, a subtle afterthought under the tang of strawberry scented alcohol. It combated with the sharp scent of disinfectant that had seeped into Ryou's very skin. Ryou wanted to run back into his _clean _hallway and slam the door shut before the dirt than manifested in Bakura's room could contaminate his house. Ryou forced himself to remain where he was and with slow, controlled movements closed the door _behind _him.

Clothes littered the floor, half covering the dozen or so empty bottles of vodka. Despite the darkness, Ryou could spot an aging spider web on the ceiling, and the curtains on the window reeked dust. When was the last time the carpet had been vacuumed? The last time the curtains were changed? The room was dusted? _When was the last time the bed was made? _Speaking of the bed... Bakura lay next to the messy pile of comforters. The pillows were tossed on the floor and a bunch of crap littered the area not occupied by Bakura. Or rather, huddled in the corner as he was, Bakura littered the area not occupied by whatever the hell covered the rest of the room. Ryou didn't even have a clue what most of the stuff was. He hadn't bought it, that much he was sure of.

"Whaddaya wan?" Bakura slurred, still drunk despite the long nap he took.

Ryou felt his earlier anger come back, and with disgust as its fuel, evolved into fury. Ryou stalked further into the room, not caring what he stepped on, and glared at the sleepy dark. "I want you to get up." He demanded.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "No." With that the darkness turned to go back to sleep.

"Bakura get up."

Bakura ignored him. It was something he had gotten rather good at over the past two months.

This time however, Ryou wasn't going to be ignored. Reaching over the bed, Ryou grabbed the first part of Bakura he could reach easily, which happened to be his wrist. "I said get up!" Ryou stressed his words by physically pulling Bakura forward. Startled by the force Ryou displayed, Bakura obediently sat up.

"Clean this shit up." Ryou told him, now that he was sure he had Bakura's full attention.

Bakura stared blankly, no longer as drunk as he would like to be, but too shocked to actually care. When had Ryou grown a backbone? When had Ryou dared to demand anything from him?

"I mean now, don't just sit there looking stupid. I do everything around this house, I cook, clean, buy your food, wash your clothes and I'm fucking tired. I'm not going to baby you any more Bakura. All I wanted was for you to put shit back when you use it. Was that too much to ask? Was it really?" Ryou stopped there, waiting for answer, Bakura supposed. He didn't receive one.

When it became obvious that Bakura wouldn't reply, Ryou continued. "I suppose it was, you lazy sorry excuse for a human being. What did I see in you? Why did I allow you to stay here and contaminate my home with this filth you have in here. What even is this?" Ryou ranted, gesturing vaguely at the mess. "Where did you get it? You can steal everything under the sun, except for anything useful, of course, and get drunk as a skunk,but you can't make your own bed! Not anymore Bakura, you're going to clean this room if I have to force you to do it."

"I will?" It was more of a question than the sarcastic remark Bakura intended it to be. No one ordered Bakura around, not even his light.

"You will. Now I'm going to leave this room for three hours. You have a choice. Either you leave my house with as much stuff as you can take in those three hours, because I'm trashing everything in here after that, or you can clean it. One or the other."

Bakura snorted. His light had no power over him. Ryou held power over _no one. _Ryou could sense that Bakura wasn't really taking him seriously. Fine, he'd only have to prove his point more strongly. Leaving Bakura's room, he stalked down to the kitchen. Once there, he grabbed on of the vodka bottles from the fridge. He returned to Bakura, not bother to close the door as he entered the room this time. The pure white light from the hallway followed him in, burning Bakura's eyes with its purity. Ryou opened the bottle and slowly poured the lightly tinted liquid onto the messy floor. "You want it that bad, lick it up. But this room will be clean before you see another drop." Ryou stated, his voice as cold as the empty bottle in his hand. Bakura gave no audible reply, but the gaping wide eyed look told Ryou more than enough. He stormed from the room and slammed the door.

Bakura remained still, eyes plastered to the wasted liquid on the floor. Ryou... Ryou was serious. The realization startled Bakura more than the actual action had. Bakura was even more surprised when his body seemed to move on its own and started cleaning the room, exactly as he was told to.

Outside the wooden door Ryou allowed himself a shudder. He had been in that filthy space for 10 minutes. If he hadn't needed a bath from all the cleaning he had done earlier, he definately needed on now. he could almost see the bacteria crawling along his skin. Yes, first he needed a bath. A nice, long, hot bath. Then he needed to scrub the bathroom down again, start the laundry and then he'd check on Bakura. He should have done something to that hazard area by then, even if it wasn't perfectly finished. Ryou wasn't expecting perfection; he had yet to teach it to Bakura.

Sinking into the near boiling water, Ryou slowly began to relax. The words Bakura spoke to him hours earlier ran through his head. _What's my reason to live? _Ryou took a moment to ponder the question, or rather the meaning behind the question. The question itself was trivial, one every human being had asked at one point, and had either accepted that such a thing didn't exist or created their own. Bakura, for all his strength and attitude was incredibly dependant. That question, or rather Bakura's response to the lack of answer to that question, told him that much. Bakura could not survive without someone telling him what to do.

He was too prideful to consider outright suicide as an answer so he makes himself as vulnerable as possible. It was a weakness that Bakura had that Ryou had never really realized before. What was Bakura's reason to live? _Well maybe I'll just have to give him one._

Nina; Wow. Um that right there, didn't honestly expect it or plan it. I mean, I had kinda planned to make Ryou cunning and not as sweet and adorable as most sterotype him as but I wasn't expected that. The cleaning obsession thing that made this whole chapter kinda be this chapter. So instead of listening to me babble, mind clicking the review button and telling me what you thought of this? My totally unplanned chapter?


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